


Cross Your Fingers and Hold Your Heart

by greenergrass



Category: Glee
Genre: Future Fic, M/M, Near Future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 21:39:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13420164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenergrass/pseuds/greenergrass
Summary: Everyone gathers to await reviews after Rachel’s return to the stage. In the middle of the night, sleepy and half drunk, Kurt’s not prepared for Rachel to fall apart over who she loved, who she loves, and who might not love her enough.He’s also not prepared for what she has to offer.





	Cross Your Fingers and Hold Your Heart

“Okay, okay,” Rachel says, half past tipsy. It’s well into the wee hours after her second opening night, and everyone’s supporting her insomnia for reasons Kurt’s too exhausted to remember right now.

“Okay, this is a good one. Who did you want to sleep with in high school, but never did?”

The papers will be out in three hours, maybe less. They will say wonderful things, and everyone will talk about Rachel’s triumphant return to the stage. They’ll all agree to meet for brunch after a few hours of sleep, but no one will show and no one will care. And it’s not because they don’t _care_. It’s because they’re old friends—suddenly and without warning, they’re adults, and they’re each other’s oldest friends. They know where to find each other, and when, and why. And that’s what matters. 

Out of nowhere, Brittany says, “Coach Beiste.” 

Santana smiles fondly. She’s nursing a glass of red wine on the floor, a mandatory safe distance from Rachel’s white couch. 

“And Kurt,” Brittany continues. “He was a really good kisser. I liked his tongue.”

“Agreed,” Blaine whispers in Kurt’s ear, and Kurt buries an embarrassed chuckle in the crook of his neck. 

“And Quinn,” Brittany says, sounding speculative. Santana nearly spits into her hand and chokes out a cough. She’s a little flushed and oddly flustered. 

“Something to share with the class?” Kurt asks, nudging her ribs with his foot. He sips at his gin and tonic—only clear beverages on the couch—and tries to stare her down, but she doesn’t break. 

“Quinn, really?” Rachel asks, oblivious. Either she’s still annoyed that Quinn couldn’t make it to opening night, or she’s miffed that she didn’t make Brittany’s list. Maybe both, because Rachel’s a little bit older and moderately wiser, but she’s still inexplicably driven to be at the center of every spotlight. 

“While she was in a wheelchair,” Brittany says, by way of explanation. “So I could compare it to Artie.”

“For the love of god, somebody else answer this question,” Artie says. “Sam? Jesse? Anyone?”

Kurt takes pity on— _everyone_ , really, and says, mostly in Blaine’s direction, “By the time I knew I even wanted to, there was only one man for me.”

Blaine snuggles in close to Kurt and sighs. “Taylor Lautner,” he says, his voice soft and dreamy. 

“You know me so well,” Kurt agrees.

In a few hours, it will just be them. It will just be them, and it will be quiet for the first time in days. He leans into Blaine and closes his eyes. 

“Do not fall asleep on me, Kurt Hummel,” Rachel says, suddenly in front of him. “I can’t do this without you.”

“You can do anything.” Kurt yawns. “You’re Rachel Berry.”

“I know,” she says. “I just can’t do it alone.”

“Rachel.” Kurt looks pointedly around the room. “You are the exact opposite of alone right now.” 

But she suddenly looks tiny and scared, and Kurt makes room for her to sit.

“You know what I mean,” she says. “Just, my dads.”

Who couldn’t decide which one of them should come to opening night so inexplicably choose neither one. 

“And, I guess, Finn.”

Still. Or again. 

Kurt sets his drink down and wraps an arm around Rachel. 

“I think I’m sad,” she says. 

“I think so too,” Kurt agrees. “But you won’t be. Not forever.”

Rachel sighs. “Sometimes it doesn’t feel that way. It feels like—like if I let myself stop and just— _be sad_ , I might.” She stops, then whispers, “I might not ever be happy again.”

This has been coming. It’s been coming because Rachel is Rachel, and sometimes, when her confidence wavers, it shakes her to her core. He knows this, but even so, he’s not prepared. In the middle of the night, sleepy and half drunk, he’s not prepared for Rachel to fall apart over who she loved, who she loves, and who might not love her enough. 

“First of all,” he says, “your dads made a huge mess of this. And that sucks. But you have to try to remember that they love you. And then you have to tell them that they screwed up. And that you love them.” 

Because people whose fathers don’t have heart disease and cancer in perpetual remission sometimes forget to say these things. He pauses and takes a breath. 

“Secondly—Rachel, it’s okay if you love Jesse,” he says. Even though she doesn’t need his permission. She doesn’t need anyone’s permission but her own. “Most people who have a first love have a second love, too. And yeah, for most people it happens under better circumstances, but there’s nothing wrong with moving on to a new forever. Especially when the old one’s not coming back.”

He says it gently, but tears still threaten to fall from Rachel’s eyes.

“And third,” he says. He takes her hand with a dramatic flourish. “You have your show, complete with forthcoming rave reviews. And two callbacks for the spring already. You have a brand new white couch in a fantastic apartment in the best city in the world, and you have a boyfriend who hasn’t thrown an egg at your face in years.”

Rachel huffs out a laugh and squeezes his hand. “And an amazing best friend,” she says. 

“That goes without saying,” Kurt agrees. “And things are going to be so good, Rachel. You’ll see. First, we’re going to grow fabulously old and rich and famous together. And then, for our thirtieth—no, thirty-fifth birthdays, we’ll buy a weekend house in the Hamptons so our kids can grow up together. And then someday, they’ll surprise us all by getting married on our private beach, and then they’ll support us in our fabulous old age.”

Rachel smiles, but she looks at Kurt and shakes her head. 

“I don’t think I can agree to that,” she says, almost shyly. “I just always thought—I mean, I wouldn’t be who I am if—” She takes a breath, and then another. “I just always thought that my first would be for you. I know it’s a long way off, but. I just thought that she—or he—would be yours.”

“Mine,” Kurt says. His voice is a whisper.

“Yours,” Rachel says, “and—” she looks at Blaine, sleeping next to Kurt. “If you want.”

And suddenly, Kurt has the world. He has the world, and he pulls Rachel into a tight hug. 

“I love you,” he whispers into her ear, and when she repeats if back to him, he feels it in his bones, love like he’s only ever felt from his parents and from Blaine, absolute and without question. 

“I love you, Rachel Berry.” He says it again because he has to, and because Rachel needs to hear it, then he pulls away and kisses her forehead. “And I think you just propositioned me.”

Rachel laughs. “Kurt Hummel,” she says, scandalized. “I did no such thing.”

“I mean, I guess we know who you wanted to sleep with in high school, but Rachel,” he says, deadpan, whisper-soft like a secret: “I’m gay.”

Rachel shrugs.

“That’s okay,” she says. She grins and looks at Blaine. “Vaguely Eurasian babies, remember?”

 _Kurt’s_ vaguely Eurasian babies, he thinks, and of course he’s thought about starting a family with Blaine, in a few years, or five—or as long as it takes—but he never dreamed it could be like this. 

“And besides,” Rachel says, “our child would be a superstar.”

Kurt smiles. “And you’re not ready to share the spotlight,” he says.

Light is starting to creep in under the curtains, and Kurt already knows what the papers will say. They’ll say that Rachel Berry is extraordinary. That her talent is remarkable, but it’s the way her heart shines through that defines her, and that if she delivers on the promise she showed tonight, everything she brings to this world will be incredible. And Kurt can’t say that he disagrees.


End file.
